


No Greater Love

by glitteraga



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: During Canon, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Secret Relationship, is fluff without plot a thing. because this most certainly has next to no plot., made for claudorothea weekend 2020!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24461623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteraga/pseuds/glitteraga
Summary: Claude and Dorothea discuss dreams.Made for Claudorothea Weekend 2020
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	No Greater Love

**Author's Note:**

> many, many thanks to jess @dorosethea and sarah @piggiemblem for generously helping me with revisions and providing moral support; this couldn't have happened without you <3

This time, he came over sooner than usual. Dorothea was still undressed, soothing out the imprints left in her skin by her clothing, when she heard him knocking.

Four taps on her door: one, one-two, one.

_Do-rothe-a._

“One moment!” Her hand hovers over a sheer robe in her drawer: a memento from her days in the opera house. She considers wearing the garment for a moment, imagining the impact it would leave on the great General Claude, leader of the Alliance. Would he gasp? Laugh? Cry, even? To give into this hungry side of herself, to give all of herself to him, and ensure she alone would occupy his thoughts for at least the next week...it would be selfish and dangerous, but _Goddess_ it would be nice.

She settles on a loose camisole and quickly opens the door.

Immediately Claude slinks into the room, closing the door with his foot and taking Dorothea into his arms. He buries his head in the crook of her neck as he holds her tight to his chest, inhaling deeply then releasing a heavy sigh. His warm cheek was slightly sticky with sweat, suggesting he must have been in quite the hurry to see her. She giggles into his shoulder as they sway slightly together like two reeds dancing in a gentle wind.

“My, what seems to be the occasion? I wasn’t expecting you until the sun had completely set,” Dorothea coos. She rests one hand on the small of his back and the other upon his shoulder, drawing him even closer. “Not that I’m complaining.”

He breathes another sigh, less stressed and more content, and leaves a quick peck on her neck. “I just missed you so much today. So, so much”

“But you saw me plenty today. Linhardt and I had to consult with you and the professor about the attitudes and tendencies of Adrestian nobles,” A wry smile quirks at her lips. “It was riveting.”

Claude chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest like a drum. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

Despite his ambiguity, she truly knew all too well what he meant. Falling in love during a war was foolish enough, but to pursue it could prove to be fatal. When they decided to begin a relationship in earnest, they agreed to keep it secret, though Dorothea did try hard to make a case for going public. She was proud to call him hers and had long abandoned fears of external judgement. However, the matter was much more complicated; their fellow soldiers would not react kindly knowing their leader was giving anyone preferential treatment, and if word got to the Empire that the opposing army’s commander had a secret weakness...she shuddered at the thought of what they could do to either of them. 

She pulls away, her hands gliding from his arms to his neck, looking into his eyes as she delicately thumbs the curve of his jaw. Songs of thrushes and nightingales fill the room as they stand wordlessly, memorizing each other's features for what feels like the first and thousandth time. A snort from Claude breaks the quiet as the two grin, leaning into each other for a kiss.

His lips are rough, the brisk wind leaving them chapped after his sky patrol. Still they melt perfectly into hers like they were made to for each other. The walls in Claude’s mind melt as well, Dorothea’s rosy scent reminding him that, with her, he is loved, he is safe. He kept countless secrets from others, but with her he had nothing to hide; there were quite a few nights where this fact alone made him weep. His tight-set jaw relaxes as she weaves her fingers through his hair. The curve of her mouth beckons him closer, closer, until he has all but enveloped her, their bodies curving into a crescent moon as Claude dips her low with a firm hold around her waist. Her soft form pressing into him sends warmth blooming through his stomach, like he just took a long sip of freshly brewed rose petal tea. He never held a preference for the beverage before, but now that he’d tried it, he never wanted to drink another thing for the rest of his life.

Clumsily, they stagger intertwined towards her bed and Dorothea sits him down, her hands trailing over his arms as they part. “It’s fairly presumptuous of you to impose on me like this, not even knowing if there’s work I need to do,” Dorothea teases, standing before him.

Her eyebrows beckon a response as she tries her best to stick to the bit, yet Claude gives her a pleading look—like a man who traveled hours through the snow and she’s his fireplace— and she cannot help but fold. He beams at her while she flops onto the bed, leaning in close to snuggle against his chest.

“With this frisky little routine, you wouldn’t believe we’re in the middle of a war.” He says with a rueful laugh, gliding his hand over the curve of her hip. 

His touch tickles her skin and makes her heart skip a beat. He was toying with her now, but this was a field she was far more skilled in. Emboldened, Dorothea tugs off his cravat. “Your definition of frisky sounds a bit different from mine.”

“Well, what else can I call it?”

“Sometimes I forget that despite all your charisma, I was your first kiss.”

He falters, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “I was waiting for someone special,” He replies embarrassedly.

They hear distant footsteps traveling outside, and they freeze. The air stills, silent with naught but the sound of their breathing. After a few seconds, the steps fade into the distance and they relax into each other once more.

Dorothea untucks his shirt and snakes her hand up his warm chest, fingers combing through his chest hair. The chill of her digits makes him suck in a breath, each caress sending pulses of longing through him. “Dorothea…” He whispers, and she shivers in turn. They remain quiet for a while longer, allowing Claude’s mind to wander as he rests his head on her shoulder. Oh, how he wishes they were somewhere else, somewhere far away where they needn’t worry about nobles or battles or rations…

If that were the case, however, what would they be doing? What would Dorothea be doing? His comfort is replaced by concern, and he mentally slaps himself for never even considering it. 

“Dorothea,” he repeats, a knot tightening in his throat.

“Yes, my love?” she absentmindedly replies, her languid hand still playing around on his breast.

He tries to swallow the knot, choosing his words carefully, “I’m sorry that you have to be held back like this.”

She traces down to his ribcage, and she worriedly notes how defined his bones are. Blinking, his words register. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he murmurs, shifting up with his back against the wall. “I guess I’m referring to a few things.” He pauses, eyes grazing over the room as he gathers his thoughts. In a normal conversation with General Claude, the average soldier can never be certain of what he’s thinking when he gazes miles away. 

But Dorothea can. The questions he asks, the statements he makes...they’re hardly ever actually about the topic at hand. It’s in his nature to always be planning, she’s learned; whether this trait is something that she admires or something to worry about has yet to be decided. Nonetheless, she treats the anxieties he confides in her with seriousness and respect. To grow alongside him and choose happiness over fear is what she wants, not to try and change him on her ownterms.

Claude continues, “Bigger picture, I’m sorry you have to be in this war—”

Dorothea gently interjects, “You know you have nothing to do with that, so why would you be sorry?”

“I know, I know. You’re too kind for this violence though, and I wish you could be elsewhere, filling your heart with something joyful instead of gruesome,” He looks down, lips pressed together tight as a pang of guilt spikes through him. Claude shakes himself out of it and turns his focus back to her. “But I guess that could be said for all of us, huh?”

Dorothea looks at him with a sad smile. “I think you’ve got more important things on your plate than worrying over whatever burdens you think you’re placing on me.”

“It’s just—” His body twists to face her, and he places a hand on her thigh. “What would you be doing if you weren’t here—if there wasn’t a war? Isn’t there a dream you would rather be chasing?”

Caught off guard, Dorothea takes a pause. Humming a long flat tone, she lays back onto her pillows, mulling it over. Her lover reclines beside her, lips parting to say something before she cuts him off.

“The dreams I used to have don’t really hold water anymore, but nothing new comes to mind either. When I was a child, I could only dream of having somewhere safe to sleep. When I first arrived at the Mittelfrank Opera House, I wanted to be the greatest songstress in the world. Coming to the Academy… Well, the gossip around town was that I only enrolled to search for a rich husband to take care of me. If I’m being completely honest, they weren’t that far off.”

She rolls onto her side to face him. 

“What I was really looking for was—” She chews her lip, pondering for a moment. “I just want to feel secure. I’m so tired of having to fight to just be able to live. I’m tired of always fearing my happiness will be ripped away by something I can’t even control.” She rests her palm atop his, and his thumb instinctively caresses her knuckles.

“It seems our dreams aren’t too different.”

She exhales a tired laugh and presses her forehead against his. “I don’t know if you can call what I have a dream,” She pulls his arm over to cradle her and curls back into the heat of his body. Talking about such personal things was difficult but having him wrapped around her made it a little easier. “Isn’t a dream usually something more ambitious?”

Claude brushes Dorothea’s hair over her shoulder, exposing her soft skin. “Not necessarily. Seeking something you’ve been denied your whole life… I think that’s pretty ambitious.” He sucks in a breath, “Uh—this probably sounds obnoxious, but I hope you know there’s nothing more that I want than to provide that for you.”

She tilts her head up to gaze at him, irises twinkling through thick lashes like emeralds. “Don’t say things you know will make me cry.”

She says this with a smile, yet her eyebrows are drawn low and furrowed. Looking at her, Claude could only envision himself scooping her up, climbing onto his wyvern, and flying far into the horizon, leaving everything here behind. However, this vision is quickly dashed away. While the toils of war are painful, entertaining irrational thoughts is even more so. Instead, he props himself over her, legs straddling her hips, giving her another soft kiss.

Dorothea takes this opportunity to fully unfasten his tunic, her face relaxing when a familiar musk tickles her nose. “I see you’re using the beard oil I got you.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been using it in my chest hair a bit too. I’m not sure if that’s what I’m supposed to be doing, but I’ve been doing it.” He gives her cheek a quick, butterfly kiss, making her giggle. “I’m sorry that I brought down the mood.”

“Please, stop apologizing. I love you.” Dorothea shifts upright and takes his hips, bringing him closer. Now fully sitting in her lap, Claude’s face flushes as she rests her palms on his pelvis. “It’s difficult right now, but I’m able to stay strong and have faith in the future because of you.”

She blinks and bounces slightly as her face lights up once more, “Oh, I think I might actually have a solid answer to your question!”

“My love, you don’t need to answer it—”

“Too bad, I’m going to!” She beams at him, sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks catching the final remnants of the sunset’s light. “I still can’t say there’s some hobby or grand pursuit I would rather be chasing, but my dream for right now is to be able to live freely and happily with you in a peaceful world, so peaceful that we’ll be able to come up with new dreams that we share together.”

It was Claude’s turn to get caught off guard. Dorothea’s loving, joyful presence overwhelms him, causing his cheeks to flush even more. “Goddess, Thea…you’re such a hopeless romantic. I can’t picture life without you.” 

“I suppose I am, but I’m willing to accept that.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she bats her lashes at him, “Oh, my Khalid...won’t you be my happily ever after?”

He lunges forward to lay down with her, embracing her tight and peppering kisses all over her. Tumbling around in her bed, their laughs mingle with the sounds of the birds. They settle on their sides, facing one another. Claude doesn’t even try to hide the fact he’s drinking her in. His eyes follow the curves of her body downward, admiring each mark and fold, before lifting back up to her face with a sincere gaze.

“You already know about the lofty dreams I’ve been following for awhile, but I’ve always thought my plans were a bit open-ended. Thanks for giving me the perfect conclusion.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, happy claudorothea weekend!
> 
> I leave you with one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite musicals, Razia's Shadow by Forgive Durden:  
> "Remember, never surrender / because the unrelenting constancy of love and hope / will rescue and restore you from any scope."


End file.
